Gonna Make This Place Your Home
by acaelousqueadcentrum
Summary: The start of the rest of their lives. A prequel to "We Finally Got It All Right."


It was a monumental kind of day.

Maybe not to anyone else. Maybe for them the birds chirped just the same as ever. Maybe for some the sun got in their eyes, or the blooming flowers aggravated their allergies.

But not for her, not today.

Not for Gail Peck.

Today was perfect, everything about it was perfect.

It was going to be perfect, she thought to herself as she rolled out of bed.

* * *

><p><em>Hold on to me as we go<em>  
><em>As we roll down this unfamiliar road<em>  
><em>And although this wave is stringing us along.<em>

* * *

><p>It wasn't perfect.<p>

The hot water heater was leaking, and her shower had been freezing.

A bird pooped on her car as she pulled out of her suburban neighborhood and headed downtown.

Then her lawyer was late and the hearing was moved to another courtroom with no notice and she almsot fell into the silent room when she tripped as she entered.

It was not a perfect day by any means.

And every second that passed, every minute, every hour, Gail just felt like it was getting worse, each new thing just piling a top the previous.

Until the fear of failure, until the feelings of gloom and doom were overwhelming.

Until her old demon, all those years of feeling inferior, of feeling worthless, resurfaced. Seeped out through her pores, settled deep into her gut.

The worst moment of the day, the one she's sure ruins everything, is her response to the judge's inquiry, his question of why she feels she's the best choice to parent Sophie, to be chosen as Sophie's custodial guardian, and eventually her adoptive parent.

She doesn't remember exactly what she said, but she's pretty sure she told him that she wasn't. The best choice. That she was a single, lesbian, beat-cop with a pretty serious case of PTSD and avoidance issues. That she was sarcastic and sometimes angry and impatient. That she could cook a total of four meals if by "cook" you meant "microwaved."

She was absolutely not the best choice to be Sophie's mom, she told the judge.

But she was the right one.

Because like it or not, she and Sophie were a lot a like.

They'd experienced terrible things, things other people couldn't and wouldn't understand.

They were good for each other.

They understood each other.

They inspired the best in each other.

In an odd, beautiful, terrible way, they had saved each other.

* * *

><p><em>Settle down, it'll all be clear<em>  
><em>Don't pay no mind to the demons<em>  
><em>They fill you with fear<em>  
><em>The trouble—it might drag you down<em>  
><em>If you get lost, you can always be found.<em>

* * *

><p>Maybe it was her honesty that convinced the judge to say yes, to let her have custody of Sophie. Maybe it was something else.<p>

She'll never know.

But in the moment after he announced his decision, Gail didn't care. It doesn't matter.

It's happening. She's going to be Sophie's mom.

And the road isn't over.

And the skies aren't yet quite clear.

But it's a start.

It's a start.

It's the start of finally, finally being happy.

* * *

><p><em>Just know you're not alone<em>  
><em>'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home.<em>

* * *

><p>"And this is your room," Gail said, leading Sophie down the hall to a room that is mostly bare, just a bed and a desk and a bureau so far. A nightlight next to the door. A reading lamp by the bed. It's mostly empty but it's waiting to be filled.<p>

Sophie put down her small suitcase and stood in the middle of the room, slowly turning around and around, taking the whole room in.

"This is mine," Sophie said, "all of it? Just mine?"

Gail nodded. She'd been in the apartment Sophie and her mother had shared, she knows how tiny it was. The one-bedroom had been split in half, two twin-beds separated by a brightly colored curtain. A single, working mother, Sophie's mom hadn't been able to afford more than that.

Honestly, Gail knew, if not for her parents' help with the downpayment on the house, neither would she.

But she'd wanted a good house for Sophie. A room of her own. Space for a pet one day. A small back-yard to play in, to grow vegetables in.

"Yep, kiddo," Gail answered, "it's all yours. Tomorrow we'll go shopping for things. A new bedspread, paint for the walls, curtains. All that kind of stuff. You get to pick it all out, whatever you want."

Sophie looked up at her as if she couldn't believe it.

"Really, Gail, I get to pick?"

Gail smiled, "Absolutely. It's your room. You're in charge of decorating it however you want. And after we get your room all set, we'll start making the rest of the house ours too, okay? Starting with a new sofa, I think. Somewhere we can snuggle in and watch TV or play video games or read, okay?"

The sweet girl, her daughter now, looked almost overwhelmed, and so Gail took pity on her.

"But that's all for tomorrow. Tonight, I thought we'd have a sleepover in the living room. Sleeping bags and Disney movies. Popcorn. We can stay up late and talk about how we want to decorate the rest of the house. You know, what color to paint the kitchen, whether we decorate the bathroom with sharks or penguins. Important things like that."

Gail smiled when Sophie grinned widely back at her.

"I know what color we should paint the kitchen," Sophie whispered with delight as she bounced up and down, "pink!"

The blonde laughed and gently tugged at one of her daughter's braids. "Pink," she said playfully, "Hmmm, I don't know about that. We might have to play Rock, Paper, Scissors to choose the kitchen color if that's your choice. But if you want, we can definitely paint your room pink."

Sophie looked around again, thoughtfully, and Gail could almost see the excited plans scrolling through her daughter's head.

"Tell you what, why don't you unpack and get yourself settled into your pjs. And I'll go change into mine. And we'll order pizza and start our sleepover early. And we can look through all the decorating catalogs that Grandma Elaine dropped by when she was snooping around the other day, okay? Sound like a plan?"

Sophie just nodded excitedly, the colorful ties at the end of her braids bouncing up and down and knocking against each other.

"Oh, yeah," she said, and turned to unpack.

And Gail watched for a moment while the drawers of her childhood bureau were filled with Sophie's clothes, and as Mr. Giggles, Sophie's stuffed pig, took his rightful place on the bed she herself used to fall asleep and dream in.

It was already starting to feel like home.


End file.
